


What Once Was Lost

by Beulaithris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate History, Dark Magic, Dark Magic Rituals (Harry Potter), Druid!Neville Longbottom, F/M, Fem!Harry, Gen, Necromancer!Harry, Slow Burn, Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beulaithris/pseuds/Beulaithris
Summary: Something is wrong with Harry.Or, more accurately, her magic- she shouldn't still be having accidental magic episodes, should she? And whoever heard of covering rooms in frost and seeing... things in the corner of her eye?But something more is missing from the magical world. Things her parents have hidden from her for far to long. In fact, the answer might even be that magic is dying. But can she trust the mysterious new student to help her find out what's going wrong?Or does Tom Riddle have his own agenda, after all?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Others subject to development
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

To many wizards, the concept of the butterfly effect would be considered ridiculous.

How, they ask, can a butterfly flapping its wings in Diagon Alley cause a hurricane in MACUSA headquarters? Surely the butterfly could just be transformed into an elephant to prevent the hurricane. Or it could be arrested, since causing hurricanes seems rather illegal, even if the laws governing butterflies are rather lacking.

It is, therefore, rather a good thing that wizards do not in fact make the laws of the universe, even if they routinely break them three times before breakfast.

Picture this scene, for example- Deep in the bowels of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there stands a young man with dark hair and blue eyes. Handsome enough, the effect is spoiled somewhat by the blossoming purple bruise around one eye and the sickly pallor to his skin visible even in the gloom.

(It’s 1942, after all, and whilst purebloods can ignore the war on European soil, an orphan from London is losing sleep over the thought of going back to a summer of wailing sirens and screaming doodlebugs. He doesn’t want to die- not yet, not like that, not _ever_.)

He raises his hand, light blooming from the end of his pale wand as he squints to look around the chamber. It’s dark and damp; slime covering the floors and the scattered skeletal remains of various rodents.

In one universe, the next thing he sees is a giant snake, easily seventy feet in length, with a scarlet comb on its head and death in its stare. It tells him about the glory of Slytherins past, and about how sacrifice in this life could prevent ever needing to pass on. You know what happens next.

In this universe, however, the butterfly has flapped its wings.

(Or, more accurately, the rat has found its way into the other end of the chamber and squealed, and so the snake is busy. Once again, you know what happens next.)

In this universe, wand light reveals a vast wall carving, spiralling up into the darkness. He recognises some of the symbols within it- Elder Futhark melds with Hieroglyphics, which merge with Merlin only knows what. He squints again, then bends forwards, frowning at a bit of the wall which glints gold.

He mouths for a second, then reaches out a long, spindly finger to touch it.

The wall sparks.

There is a hurricane in MACUSA.

* * *

“Hurry up, Harry! You’re gonna be late for the Floo!”

Harry groaned gently, burrowing her head further under her bedcovers, icy air biting at her nose like a crup at a chew toy.

Wait… ice? In September?

She cracked open an eye unwillingly, shivering as more cool air washed over her. Not again…

“Harr- whoa, pup! What’ve you been experimenting with, huh?’

Harry opened the other eye and sat, long hair sticking up as she attempted to run a hand through it. No luck today, by the feel of it- instead of the usual knots, the cold, brittle feel underneath her fingers indicated she was covered in frost again.

Her eyes met her uncle’s, who was looking around the room with a small frown. A layer of glitter seemed to cover every surface she owned, icy leaf patterns blossoming across the window. It was a good thing Hedwig was out hunting really- she would _not_ have been impressed.

‘Just… nightmares again, Siri,’ Harry mumbled.

She winced internally as a small frown flittered across Sirius’ face, only to be replaced with a smile that was just a bit too big to be real. He was worried about her again. Great.

‘Awww, nervous about finally being allowed to go to the Christmas ball, little lion?’ he teased, drawing out his wand to help defrost the room. ‘Can’t say I blame you; the bright pink dresses would really clash with that hair of yours!’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being ginger,’ she grumbled, shivering as her feet touched the carpet a moment before Sirius’ defrosting spell twinkled over it. ‘Where’s mum and dad?’

“James is cooking breakfast, Lily’s out with the chickens,’ Sirius said, putting his wand away with a flourish. He hesitated a moment, then sat on the end of her bed, patting the space beside him awkwardly.

“Want to tell me about the dream?’

She closed her eyes and shook her head, mind wandering back. What had it been again? She had vague flashes of icy blue eyes under a full moon; some sort of voice calling out from behind a tattered curtain, but nothing more solid…

“Just… school nerves. I think someone was asking me for homework.”

Her uncle laughed, a short barking sound, and grinned, though the crinkles around the edges of his eyes betrayed that he didn’t quite believe her. “And who can blame you? Homework’s a daunting task, especially when the pressures of teen puberty mean bouts of accidental magic are oh-so common!”

He bounced away from her with a grin as she spluttered, cheeks turning red. “Uncle Sirius!”

“Yes, yes, you don’t need to tell me, you’re doubtlessly head over heels for some dashing young Weasley and hoping he’ll ask you to the ball. Your secret is safe with me, Gingerella- now go get ready so you look proper for seeing them again!”

He dashed off laughing as Harry thew threats at him, laughing to herself as she heard crashes from the kitchen, her uncle doubtless getting in her father’s way while he attempted to cook his favourite meal of the day.

She rummaged through her dresser, pulling out a dress and jeans as she got dressed, immediately giving her hair up as a bad job today. She wished she could bring herself to cut it sometimes- the curly curtains of auburn hair cascaded to her waist now- but doing so would inevitably cause it to become triangular. Even she knew that wouldn’t be good- just think of what Malfoy could do with ammo like that! No, a plait it would have to be.

The kitchen smelt strongly of sausages and bacon when she arrived, her mum giving a grunt of greeting over the pot of coffee in front of her whilst both men in the room squabbled at the oven.

“I’m telling you James, it’s pepper and paprika and salt for scrambled eggs, then just salt for boiled!”

“And I’m telling you, you’re a heathen who deserves to eat dog food!”

“Maybe that’s why you have no sense of taste- eating tree bark!”

“How long have they been at it, Mum?” Harry quietly asked, helping herself to toast as the post owl deposited _‘The Prophet’_ on the table.

Harry’s mother shook her head, a smile on her face. “The last twenty years, and the next twenty more, I suspect. It’s lucky they’re entertaining to be around. How did you sleep, Sweetheart?”

“Alright, thanks. Worried a bit about exams… didn’t you say they were changing them again?”

The auburn-haired witch hummed softly, stifling a yawn as she squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Only a little; they want to emphasise more theory. I know it’s boring, but it will help in the long run if you understand the underlying theory.”

“Yeah, but you _design_ charms, I think you’re biased,” Harry grumbled gently, squeezing her mum’s hand back. “Of course you’re amazing at theory.”

“You’re clever too- it’s like McGonagall said at your parents evening, you just need to work a bit harder at it,” her mum reassured her, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek as he dished out sausages, bacon and suspiciously red looking eggs to the two women. “Isn’t that right, Jamie?”

James smiled at his daughter, ruffling her hair with an oven-mitted hand. “Could do, kiddo. Then again, me and Sirius never worked half as hard at theory as Lils and look at us- aurors as good as any other!”

“Well, _I’m_ distinctly better than your father, but it can’t be easy to admit your best friend is clever, handsomer and has much better taste than you, can it?” Sirius declared airily, ducking a wooden spoon as it attempted to rap him on the back of the head. “Besides, you’re already ahead in defence since you spent the summer training with us.”

“What, water ballooning you with dad, you mean?” Harry shot back cheekily, exchanging a high-five with her dad as he went past again.

Sirius made a wounded noise, Harry smiling into her tea as the adults around her bickered lovingly. This was one of the things she missed whilst at Hogwarts, she had to admit. Yeah, going to school in a castle _looked_ cool, but it was still just school, and sometimes she missed the excitement of being around adults more interesting than teachers. Still, it would be nice to see Ron and Hermione again.

The clock on the wall dinged over the conversation, the miniature doors opening as the painted blue dragon snorted out eleven smoke rings for the hour.

“Oh! Eleven! You better start packing, the floo will be open in four hours!” Lily exclaimed, the morning coffee finally kicking in to propel her upright. “Do you have the list of things you need for school? Remember, this is the year you can’t come home during the holidays! Thank the Lord for owl post!”

Harry nodded, a feeling of gloom settling in her stomach. That would be something she missed. According to the Ministry, breaks at Christmas and Easter negatively impacted students learning- and whilst she couldn’t deny that she rarely got anything done in those two weeks, snowball fights with her family sounded a lot more fun than the ‘enrichment’ activities like balls that were planned.

She pushed her chair away from the table, grabbing a mug of tea along with the requirement list from her mother’s pinboard. Maybe leaving packing until the morning of was leaving it a bit late, but it wasn’t like the old days, where they needed to supply _all_ their own equipment. No lugging massive caldrons around or trying to pack fragile potions supplies safely. Just the thought of how it must have smelled if the contents had gone everywhere…

No, now it was mostly just textbooks and clothes, along with whatever hobby supplies or sweets she could fit. Quite how Hermione managed to fit several balls of wool in her trunk every year, Harry would never know- she herself struggled to fit even a few chocolate frogs, even when she accidentally ‘forgot’ the dresses ‘required’ for attending the damn school balls.

She pulled a face, stuffing a few childhood books into the trunk, wincing when one of the covers of Sirius’ ripped a little. She wasn’t sure what it was, but the thought of having to go to school dances this year made her uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that all her classmates had suddenly started having crushes on each other before the summer, and this Halloween it would be a competition to wear the most revealing outfit rather than apple bobbing.

Still, at least Hermione agreed with her- it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her best female friend to bunk off the party for a game of exploding snap. Ron neither, so long as they nabbed enough caldron cakes to bet with. 

Shaking her head, Harry pulled herself together. Regardless of what the future held, she still had to pack. Worrying about future awkward parties would just have to wait until after the uncomfortable floo across half of Britain.

* * *

The crisp Scottish air filled Harry’s lungs as she stepped out of the arrivals gate in Hogsmeade, the feel of her parents’ and uncle’s arms around her still lingering as warmth in her long wool coat. It wasn’t quite as cold as it had been in the past (during her second year, there’d even been snow dusting the hills around the small town!), but a chill definitely filled the air which hadn’t been present in the early September sunshine of the Shropshire countryside. She pulled russet wool slightly closer around her and savoured the feeling- as much as she might complain living in the countryside was boring, she couldn’t deny that she preferred the taste of the fresh air to the city townhouses she’d grown up in.

“Harry!”

Harry jumped, only having a second before a brunette blur tackled her on one side. “Ah, Hermione!”

Hermione grinned at her, lessening her grip to let her best friend breathe. “How was summer?”

“Alright, thanks,” Harry said, letting herself to be steered to _‘The Catpurrchino’_ , the little coffeeshop serving as both a meeting place for students and the town’s cat rescue. “Helped Mum with the garden a lot, went flying with Dad, helped Sirius tinker with his motorbike. You?”

Hermione smiled, reaching down to pet a very fat tabby before giving one of the floating order pads her coffee order. “Went out to Germany for a bit- the black forest has a fascinating magical history- then caught up on a lot of reading. I think my parents want me to be a healer though, they keep shoving books on bones and teeth at me.”

“Do you want to be a healer?” Harry asked, eying the order pad dubiously. It fluttered in mid-air, seeming mildly distressed by being made to wait. Well, let it, the reports she’d had on the quality of hot chocolate here were _not_ good. “And do you know when Ron’s due?”

Hermione shrugged slightly, laying a few knuts on the table as a hot chocolate piled high with cream ‘popped’ into existence in front of her. “He said four-ish? Which should give us time to walk up to school before dinner starts. And I don’t know about healing- it does seem like a fascinating science and magic, but really, it’s politics I’m interested on above all else, and there’s never been a minister who started out as a healer.”

Harry smiled and nodded along, letting the words wash over her comfortingly. Hearing that even _Hermione_ didn’t know precisely her plans for the future meant her weird dream concerns were just nightmares, not anything else. Maybe the next year wouldn’t be as hard as she expected…

* * *

Night had fallen, and stuffed with food as she was, it was definitely time to go to bed. She stretched out, stifling a yawn and Ron did one, not bothering to hide it despite Hermione’s scolding.

“Relax, ‘Mione, no one’s going to mind a bbit of rudeness before bed on the first day.”

Hermione chewed her bottom lip, eyes flicking towards the long head table. Along with the usual array of teachers say a short, stout woman, clad in bright pink everything. She was smiling down on them all indulgently, having given some sort of speech about her plans for the defence class just after dessert had finished.

“I’m just saying, it sounds like she’s going to be very strict. What do you think, Harry?”

Harry shrugged slightly, getting out of her chair. “Maybe? It was after the end of dinner; I wasn’t really listening. Besides, she’s the new Defence teacher, she can’t be worse than Quirrell. That man was afraid of his own shadow.”

“Well, that’s what I’m worried about!” Hermione said, steering them along the long corridors to their sleeping quarters. “Why make a speech when everyone is already half asleep?”

“Stage fright?” Ron suggested, earning him a glare. “Hey! It happens to everyone. Besides, unless you want to be an auror, it’s not like defence class is too useful anyway. It _could_ be cool, but who really wants to hear about all the wizarding world laws anyway?”

“I suppose…” Hermione said unwillingly, stopping at the staircase. “Are you still rooming on level one?”

The boy deflated slightly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “Yeah. Never have been a morning person. I’ll see you both at breakfast?”

“Course!” Harry said, grabbing him in a tight hug. “Grab a few seats for us if you’re there before us, yeah?”

Ron nodded, and the three made their good evenings before the girls started to climb the stairs. Harry supposed it made sense to house the early risers on higher floors since they’d have more time to get places, but that didn’t exactly bring any comfort to her burning calves by the time she’d got to the fifth floor. Damnit, she really did hate that main staircase, why weren’t the smaller ones accessible until lessons started?

She pushed open the door to their shared area, expecting to maybe find Neville at the little kitchen, making a mug of coco before going to bed.

Purple caught her eye first, and her eyes widened as she saw the headmaster in their common area. He was old now, a wispy white beard reaching to his knees, though bright blue eyes still sparkled as brightly as a man’s half his age. “Professor Dumbledore?”

“Ah, Miss Potter. Is that Miss Granger behind you too? Excellent, Mr Longbottom is already here, come, sit.”

Harry came in warily, sitting on the slightly uncomfortable couch along with Hermione. She exchanged a glance with Neville too, but the boy just shrugged, avoiding eye contact. Why the headmaster was there was a mystery to him too then.

The headmaster twinkled at them, clasping his hands behind the back of his robes. “Welcome back to Hogwarts! I trust you all had good summers? I myself made excellent progress in researching some fiendishly difficult transfiguration!”

“Um, yes Sir…?”

“Good! I won’t keep you too long- I promise, you’ll need a good long rest before school starts tomorrow. We had a new student turn up over the summer, and I wanted to introduce you all- his sleeping habits should fit around yours perfectly, as should his study. I know its rather irregular to introduce a new border this late in your education, but I trust you’ll be friendly and welcome him?”

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione said quickly, eyes flicking towards the doors which led to their individual bedrooms. “Where-“

One of the doors opened slowly. In stepped a boy roughly their own age if Harry had to guess. Dark curls of brown hair lay atop his head, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Harry frowned slightly- they seemed familiar, though where from, she couldn’t guess.

“Ah, Tom,” the headmaster said cheerfully, ignoring the boy’s wince. “Come, introduce yourself.”

The boy smiled politely, flashing teeth in a way which made shivers run down Harry’s spine. Whilst it looked like it was friendly, she couldn’t help but be reminded of a rather large shark.

“Thomas Marvolo Riddle. A pleasure, I’m sure.”


	2. Horfrost and Cobra Bites

When Harry opened her eyes the next morning, it was to a gorgeous cascade of pinks and oranges, the rising sun sending light dancing through the old glass windows of her bedroom and spinning across the old stone walls. She smiled gently to herself, drinking in the sight of the fabric of her four-poster bed’s curtains remaining soft and free flowing. As she sat up, the waterfall of red parted smoothly, revealing wall hangings stained with colour from the skylight as streaks crept along the wooden floor.

Sometimes, being an early riser was worth it- where on the lower levels would you be able to wake up to such a beautiful sight? Especially one which wasn’t frozen solid these days.

She slipped into her slippers and dressed for the day, humming gently under her breath as she walked through to the breakfast bar. The other good thing about being an early riser was the quiet time in the morning to just wake up properly and enjoy a cup of tea.

“Good Morning.”

Harry jumped, heart pounding, before her eyes landed on the boy sat in their kitchenette. He raised an eyebrow back at her in silent question, a ratty copy of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ in his hands. Oh, of course- Thomas.

“Mornin’. You’re up early,” Harry greeted, trying to cheerfully grin. “Cuppa?”

“I could say the same,” he replied mildly. “Although, a cup of tea would be most appreciated. Miss Potter, is it not?”

“Um, yeah- though you can just call me Harry, only teachers call me Potter,” Harry said, rummaging through the drawers in the little kitchen and trying to remember where everything was kept. “Seriously though, it’s weird starting at a new place, did you find everything okay?”

He blinked slowly, looking rather like an overly bony owl as he cocked his head. “Quite. I studied at a boarding school for a number of years prior, and they’re all rather similar.”

Harry shrugged, cheerfully, trying to shove down the vague sense of unease she was getting. Giving into that would just make her freeze the water in the kettle again, and Lord knows how she’d explain _that_. “Oh, fair. Milk and sugar? I guess Dumbledore gave you that history book to make you feel more at home.”

“One sugar cube and no milk, please,” her said, the blue eyes slowly looking her up and down before meeting her eyes. “May I ask a question?”

If he asked about going to a bloody ball, she would actually curse his tea, Harry promised herself as she put the kettle onto boil. “Go ahead!”

“What happened to the house system? This book details four houses, each with their own individual common room. Yet, we four cannot be the members of one house, surely? And neither you, Miss Granger or Mr Longbottom carried any signs of house alliances when we met last night. Not even on your… is that really the uniform?”

Harry relaxed, ignoring the faint crystals which had formed beneath her fingers on her mug. Thomas was just a snob, then. Nothing to worry about.

“Ah! Well, since we’re fifth years, the uniform policy is just to wear smartish clothes- we’re old enough to look after ourselves in that respect, though Snape breathes down your neck if you wear less than a proper shirt.”

She stopped for a moment to brew the tea, smirking internally at the scandalised look on his face. Ah, posh and stuffy then, if even flannel and jeans were too out there for him.

“As for houses, well- we used to have them, but my mum and dad’s year were the last year sorted. Yeah, people became like family, but it meant a personality at eleven affected too much of your prospects. Hufflepuffs were always pushed into care taking jobs, Slytherins into ministry work and all that rubbish. There’s still some clubs and stuff taking the names, especially if you like quidditch, but beyond that it’s mostly just old Slytherin families sticking together because they’re too stuck up to interact with anyone else. Here’s your tea.”

He accepted it silently, taking a sip before speaking again. “I see. Thank you, Miss Potter.”

“Harry, honestly. What do you prefer, anyway? Tom? Marv?”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust, Harry hiding her grin in a cup of tea as Hermione bounced down the stairs. “Riddle, thank you. Names are important, and I’d rather not be so jolly familiar. We barely know each other.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, Harry hiding another smile in her mug as she watched Hermione battle not to say anything. Ah, another aristocratic snob then, who likely thought himself mysterious and worthy of investigation since his last name was Riddle.

Frankly, she doubted he’d last the week before calling his parents to be sent back to whatever posh boarding school he’d come from.

* * *

The week passed as it usually did for the first week of Hogwarts- the handing out of the schedules at breakfast, the swarming bedlam of people trying to get to class on time and the usual run down of any changes during the introduction to each lesson.

Thankfully, beyond a charm curriculum which Flitwick had described as ‘slightly’ (and Ron had described as ‘unfortunately’) more theory based, it didn’t seem like much had changed by Friday lunchtime. Harry grabbed a sandwich from one of the platters on the table and clattered herself down next to Ron, shooing a small first year out of the way as the boy squeaked indignantly.

“Ready for defence class?” the ginger boy asked, grinning as Hermione slid in on his other side. “Apparently Umbridge is useless and just makes you read right through it. Binns 2.0, but more solid and pinker.”

“Great,” Harry groaned, rolling her eyes. “My favourite lesson too.”

“I suppose that means we can use it to finish the rest of our homework,” Hermione said, getting out her diary. “I know you’re only taking a few higher classes, but the workload is bound to build up. Besides- I definitely don’t envy you having to partner with Marv in Divination.”

Harry grimaced, gloomily putting down her half-eaten apple. Marv- or, Riddle, as he preferred to be called- was… odd, she decided. A genius, perfect student who could keep up with Hermione in classes, but an utter loner everywhere else who always had his nose stuck in that history book, flicking through it like a madman and making notes every few pages.

He was polite in their little kitchenette too- even making tea for Harry one morning- but something about the way he kept watching them wasn’t right either. Sometimes, if she was honest, it did feel like she was red riding hood, and he was the big bad wolf dressed up as Grandma.

Ron chewed on his sandwiches, sending a wink towards Harry. “He certainly doesn’t seem to be complaining about partnering with Harry. Practically begged to be paired with her this morning. Maybe he’ll ask her to the ball after all.”

Harry shoved him in the shoulder, harder than she meant to. He yelped, shoving into Zacharias Smith, who sent him a disdainful look, quickly followed by a barrage of insults so salty they attracted Professor Sprout’s outraged scolding.

Harry did her best to look innocent, the curling knot of worry sinking deeper into her stomach. Riddle had probably just requested because he didn’t seem to be making friends with, well, anyone, and at least she was a vaguely familiar face. Or maybe he really was trying to butter her up, and she’d have to find some desperate way out of it-

Harry snatched her hand away from her cup, hiding her hand in her lap as the frost trailing up the base melted away.

Well, there was no sense worrying about it in public then- trying to explain _that_ would be even more difficult, especially since she didn’t know the answer herself. She’d just have to think about Defence instead. That was bound to be interesting, even if the new teacher was questionable…

* * *

Defence was not interesting.

Harry scowled towards the front of the class, trying not to glare directly at their teacher. She was a short woman with greying, tightly grey hair who reminded Harry of nothing more than the toads she’d once dressed in doll’s clothes with Sirius’ help. On her less charitable days, that might even have been enough to irritate her; bows and frills always lead uncomfortable flashbacks of dressing up for grandparents.

No, it was something else. Professor Umbridge held herself like a schoolgirl playing stern headmistress of her school of stuffed toys, giggling and simpering as she walked up and down the rows. It was enough to make anyone roll their eyes, and quite how she thought it would make anyone respect her, Harry didn’t know.

Beside her, it looked like Riddle felt the same way. His knuckles were clenched white around his quill, and contempt plain enough for even Harry to see was flashing through his eyes.

“Has Defence always been… shown in this way? I hardly call it teaching,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Harry to hear but unexpected enough to make her start. Umbridge threw a funny look at them but continued on her circle around the classroom as elsewhere a low murmur started up.

“Variable, I guess. Quirrel in first year had a nervous breakdown at the curriculum, the second year teacher got a modelling deal and left, Lupin in third year got sacked for being a werewolf and last year we had an old auror get sacked for teaching us ‘dark magic’,” Harry responded, rolling her eyes slightly. Quite apart from Lupin’s ridiculous sacking (he’d never hurt anyone!), Moody being sacked for teaching them the _Ancora_ charm had been ridiculous.

“As he should have been, Miss Potter,” Umbridge said primly, watery eyes fixing on the two of them. “The allies charm is a primitive piece of magic, and in the modern day we rely on contracts and the rule of law to keep wizards safe. Now hush, I won’t have whisperings in my lessons, especially between an unpromised young woman and an unknown boy.”

Harry flushed and ducked her head as ripples of giggles spread around the room, feeling her cheeks start to redden. For Merlin’s sake, it was only the start of term!

From under her hair, she heard Riddle start talking again, using a charming tone full of warmth she didn’t remember him having. “Forgive me, Professor Umbridge, I’ve no desire to interrupt this fascinating lesson- so many chaps forget how to properly store their wand, and it’s the cause of so much upset.”

 _‘Liar,’_ Harry thought, ‘ _You’re as bored as I am.’_

“I was merely asking Miss Potter about some differences between this school and the one I attended previously. What’s this ‘unpromised’ business about? I’m afraid a chap’s less likely to find these things out than witchfolk, and I’d feel jolly rotten if I accidentally ruined Miss Potter’s reputation over a misunderstanding.”

Harry groaned gently, feeling a burning flush make its way onto her face as giggles once again broke out around the classroom. All she wanted to do was hide her head in her hands, but that would inevitably make her look guilty, and she could already feel the faint tingling sensation of frost nipping at her fingers without the extra embarrassment.

Umbridge lip curled, face darkening like a summer day before thunder. “Did your parents not explain such things, boy?”

Beside her, Riddle’s knuckles whitened again for a second, just long enough for Harry to catch. Then he relaxed, replying as smoothly as butter on warm toast. “I’m an orphan, Ma’am. Raised by the Brothers of Merlin on Lindisfarne, then sent here when I declined to take their vows. I’m afraid I’m genuinely quite lacking in etiquette surrounding the fairer sex.”

Internally, Harry pretended to vomit. The words were so saccharine sweet they could almost be believed, if not for the fact they were almost certainly formulated to melt their professor’s heart.

Professor Umbridge seemed to melt as Riddle smiled charmingly at her. “It’s a simple enough lesson, I suppose, and you children could do well to learn it- Ministry polls have found it badly understood. Listen up boys and girls.”

Harry shot another glare at Riddle, who merely raised a crooked eyebrow as Umbridge raised her wand, the room going dark as pictures began to drift from the wand.

“In years past, wizardkind used to do much as they wished, unrestrained by anything but their own wishes.”

Around their heads, stick figures danced merrily, changing shape and direction randomly.

“However, this led rise to Lords and Ladies, powerful wizards who wished to reshape the world to their own design. For a time, that was permitted- after all, such was the lure of powerful magic.”

Abruptly, the colours became dimmer, seeming to leech out of the figures.

“However, we soon discovered that allowing such figures to shape the world as they saw fit was causing magic to drain from the world. And, as time went on, that which was left became corrupted- you’ve all heard tales of the undead armies of the necromancers on the continent before such knowledge was destroyed, of those who would breed with magical beasts, which resulted in werewolves and vampires, and even those who sought to feed off the magic of the land itself.”

All of a sudden, the illusions jumping around them became blood red, stick figure wars breaking out all over the classroom. Even Harry had to admit it was quite an impressive show.

“And so, our Ministry stepped in to prevent us from all becoming muggles. They made sensible, safe laws to ensure that young people know the dangers of what was previously seen as perfectly safe magic. Did you know that overuse of the Patronus can drive a person mad, since it feeds on happy memories? Or that conjuring animals leads to the death of smaller animals and insects in the local area? Hence, we now mostly focus on inanimate objects- and we don’t need to use such nasty magics.”

Riddle shifted in his seat; such a small movement Harry was sure she wouldn’t have felt it if they weren’t currently sat at the same desk. Glancing down, his pristine falcon feather quill had shattered between his fingers, sharp fragments digging into his skin, utterly at odds with the serene look on his face.

“Now, as you this worry about boys and girls- you’ve all heard of the Dark Lord Grindelwald? Well, when he was being bound to stop the rips in magic he was creating, he unleashed a curse on the British Isles. If we liked our laws so much, so be it- only those legal and properly bound together by the ministry would be able to have children. Now, this wouldn’t have been a concern, had he not been tricky, instead tying the curse to the old laws of the early British wizards. Now, the entire betrothal system requires entire families to agree and give permission. Why, my own wedding took eight years to arrange.”

Harry snorted. Privately, she thought that had nothing to do with the frankly ridiculous laws around weddings, and more to do with the woman herself.

“And so you see, Mr Riddle, why whisperings might be taken out of context- this is the year that courtships usually start, after all, and Miss Potter is an eligible young lady.”

Harry flinched at the reminder, gripping her knees and hiding further behind her hair as she felt a cold sheet begin to grow over her nails. Her parents would never allow anything to be forced, of course, but still. She didn’t want to think of such things so young, especially with her magic being so damn jumpy lately.

Umbridge waved her wand, smiling innocently as the sudden return of light burned the eyes of several of her students. “Does that make sense, class? Mr Riddle?”

“Quite so, Ma’am,” Riddle murmured, casting an indecipherable look at Harry, who pointedly looked at his quill. “Quite so.”

* * *

If there was one thing Harry loved, it was flying.

Not that she was meant to do much of it- quidditch in the air had been banned when she was a young girl thanks to one too many fatal accidents, and broom usage had mostly been relegated to short trips once you had a license these days.

And so, when she couldn’t sleep, she would instead slip out of their little kitchenette and make her way through the dusty upper floors of Hogwarts, unused as the population dwindled. And, just to the left of a snoozing portrait of a chimera, there was a door which led out onto a rooftop courtyard.

The despite its lack of use, Harry thought the castle wards and house elves probably still kept it in acceptable shape. Professor Sprout would doubtless have a heart attack at the thought- the grass was rough and unhewn, brambles stretched up to reach the sky, and the giant apple tree was a perfect scrambling partner for any student wishing to sit on the roof of one of the towers.

Harry opened her eyes, drinking in the sight of the full moon reflected in the lake’s water, a giant glowing eye staring unblinkingly back towards the lazy splatter of stars across the Scottish sky. A slight breeze played with strands of her hair as she leaned back onto her hands, feet dangling towards the floor two hundred feet below. Somehow, as different as it was from the family estate, without prying eyes this place felt like home.

Or, maybe not quite away, she conceded, flicking her eyes towards a brooding Riddle. 

“Ready to tell me why you were following me this evening?” she asked casually, smirking as he sent an irritated look at her and continued jabbing at the small tears in his trousers. “I might not have made you climb the tree if you hadn’t been insistent.”

“Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were arguing in the kitchen, and I had no desire to be cornered in the library by a group of giggling schoolgirls,” he said archly. “As crude as I find many of your mannerisms, I’ve no desire to be courted in the way everyone in this school is obsessed with, and you’re rather good at disappearing.”

Harry sent a half-hearted glare towards him, the stirrings of pity deep in her chest. Well, for that she couldn’t blame him. With an aristocratic face, a strong nose and curly brown hair, a lot of people called Riddle classically handsome. With the news he was an orphan and thus not bound to any family- well. Plenty of people had started to seek him out as an option.

“I’m perfectly polite, thank you!”

“Hmm,” Riddle said, cocking his head and looking sideways at her with that piercing, snake like look she was rather coming to dislike. “I said mannerisms, not manners, Miss Potter.”

“They’re the same thing in todays lingo. And call me Harry, for Merlin’s sake, you sound like some type of newscaster from the Grindelwars.”

“I rather think I shan’t,” Riddle said, sniffing for a moment, then standing. “Come, I’ve got a new divination method for this week’s homework.

Harry rolled her eyes again, leaning back from the edge and sending one last longing look at the view. Her jumbled mess of a teacup last week had set him off on a hunt for the future, making him mutter about death and time and danger- though to her, it just looked like a pile of tea leaves, and she’d been distinctly unimpressed by her describing his as a triangle, so maybe good fortune.

“Come, come- I’m not your owl, Riddle,” she grumbled, dropping back down into the courtyard. “And why couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow morning?”

“And yet, you’ve followed,” he pointed out smugly, drawing a small circle on the floor in chalk.

It shone in the darkness as he hissed something so softly that she couldn’t make out the words to, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a great eye blink beneath his hand.

“And because this particular divination ritual works best under the full moon and interrupting it would be… a bad decision.”

Harry eyed him warily. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Riddle- well, that was a lie- but this damned word play was something which endeared him even less.

“What does it do, Riddle?”

“Why, scared to try? I hadn’t thought a Potter would be a coward,”

Harry flushed, making an outraged sound. She stepped forward to prod him hard in the chest, vaguely aware of a flash of white light around her feet.

“Potters are _never_ cowards, Riddle!” she hissed, “And don’t you forget it. Now, what’re we doing?”

He smirked down at her.

“Quite simple, Miss Potter. Hold the handle of your wand in one hand, then hold the tip of mine in your other. If you let the magic flow through it, then it should give some indication of where our talents will lie as adults.”

Harry narrowed her eyes. Yes, she might be a Potter, but Sirius Black was still her uncle. “Why the need for the ritual circle, if it’s that simple?”

“Oh, very good, Miss Potter. Though you needn’t sound so suspicious- it’s merely to stop us attracting attention. My ‘Hogwarts a History’ describes this as perfectly kosher, even if Professor Umbridge might disagree.”

A reasonabl-ish explanation, Harry thought, glancing back down at the floor. It was just chalk, even if there was something a little… off about the way it shimmered.

Riddle withdrew his wand, the pale yew gleaming white in the moonlight. He looked at her expectantly, blue eyes dark, and held out his other hand for her own.

Harry steeled herself and presented her own wand, the Holly dark in comparison to Riddles pale fingers closed around its end. As she touched his, it felt for a moment like warmth, and she could have sworn she heard beautiful music start emanating from somewhere.

“Let your magic flow around the circle,” Riddle murmured. “Like you’re casting a spell without the words. I’ll see your potential, and you’ll see mine.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, carefully willing a little bit of magic down her wand. Immediately, the warmth grew and the song got louder, and she let out a startled laugh as flares of gold started to lick the air, jumping and cycling around them, cycling through shapes before seeming to solidify into long, sinuous bodies reaching towards the sky.

“Snakes. Maybe you should have taken Care of Magical Creatures- hey!”

The ends of her fingers started to tingle, the air charging with ozone. For wild moment, Harry wondered if these were the sensations you would feel if you attempted to stroke a thundercloud.

Around them, the gold sparked brighter, the dancing creatures intertwining into the thick body of a cobra. It slid around both of their legs, hood flaring as sparks slid off it and soaked into their trousers.

“Ice, and a lot of it,” Riddle breathed.

Harry turned her eyes away from the serpent starting to climb up their legs, trying not to panic. Riddle was staring in rapture at something above her head. “What?!”

“Your magic looks like ice,” he repeated. “It’s freezing.”

“Well, what does that mean?!”

“Change. You’ll bring a lot of change, Miss Potter, whether the world likes it or not,” he said, eyes shining. “And I rather think it won’t.”

Harry frowned, opening her mouth to yell back. But the only noise which came out was a yelp of pain as two scorching fangs sunk deep into her neck.

The circle flared again for a moment as the two teenagers were thrown back, Harry clutching one hand to her neck and the other reaching out frantically to stop the skidding. The courtyard behind her looked like a scene out of a Christmas card, utterly drenched in ice and frost, and when she let out a breath it came out white.

“What the hell was that, Riddle?” she snarled, snapping her wand towards him as she saw a movement in the dark. “That’s not in any book I’ve ever read!”

He laughed, a wild sound, light blooming at the tip of his wand as a shield sprang out of Harry’s. For the first time since they’d met, he looked dishevelled, cheeks pink and hair ruffled from its neat parting. “Maybe you should read better books, Miss Potter. It was certainly informative for me.”

“ _Riddle,_ ” she growled. The back of her throat felt like acid, the tingling pain of the cobra bite sinking deep into the muscles. Maybe she should bite him and see how he liked it.

His smile widened, turning cruel. “Of course, we did _technically_ , just do some rather dark magic Miss Potter. You’re perfectly welcome to tell someone else about it, but your neck is as much on the guillotine as mine is.”

He held his hands towards her, the picture of innocence as her stomach dropped to the floor. Dark, spiralling hoarfrost patterns were sinking into the skin, standing out to anyone who looked.

“You should read better books, regardless,” he continued casually, as though Harry hadn’t gone as white as a sheet. “You hardly live up to the potential you showed me tonight. Powerful witches shouldn’t pretend to be mediocre.”

Riddle stood fluidly, smoothing his hair back into place and putting his hands into his pockets with more cheer than Harry had yet seen him display. He sauntered past her, dropping a sly wink. “Oh, and I’d maybe wear a scarf, unless you want rumours flying. See you tomorrow morning, Miss Potter.”

She glared after him in utter fury, holding back the urge to tackle him to the ground. Her magic still felt fizzy, bubbling to the surface of her skin and begging to be used. She should have realised the damn thing was a ruse as soon as she saw him draw that chalk circle…

She glanced back over there, to where the frost had started to melt, washing the evidence away. What else she saw made her smile, however.

There, lying on the ground, was the book Riddle had been pouring over for the last Merlin knew how long. And if he wanted her to read more, well.

Why not try and figure out exactly what his game plan was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never trust a snake, Harry- even if you don't know why yet....

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Harry Potter
> 
> Hope you like it!


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